Fighting Solitude (On The Ropes #3)

by Aly Martinez

  Over the next year, Till’s dream came true as he started boxing professionally. Uncle Slate was his trainer, which meant, as the head of his security, my father was on the road with the Page family more often than not. It also meant that I got to see Quarry almost every weekend. Those visits were the highlights of my week. I spent Monday through Friday at my private school in Chicago, counting down the days until I got to see those hazel eyes and that boyish smirk again.

  Quarry followed through on his promise to me and tried really hard not to go deaf, and I followed through on my promise to him and learned sign language just in case. I had to quit soccer in order to make the nightly classes at the local community center, but I was okay with that. Quarry was more important, and to be honest, shin guards and grass stains clashed with everything.

  When I was ten, Quarry beat the snot out of some kid at one of Till’s professional boxing matches for having called me a nerd. I hadn’t even heard the comment because I’d been wearing my headphones and engrossed in a book. But that didn’t mean I didn’t take great pleasure in watching Quarry teach that jerk a lesson. He was always there for me, even when I didn’t even know I needed him to be. It was yet another layer of security my timid soul so badly needed.

  A fragility only Quarry knew existed within me.

  And one he protected regardless of the punishment that usually followed.

  When I was eleven, I broke my arm after he’d finally given in to my constant begging and agreed to teach me how to skateboard. He’d tried to catch me as I’d fallen, but the skateboard had clocked him pretty nicely in the head when it shot out from under my feet. He never left my side as I lay crying on the sidewalk. After ordering a kid to get my mom, he rubbed a soothing hand up and down my back while whispering profuse apologies intertwined with a million curse words. Just before we left for the hospital, he brazenly climbed into the backseat beside me even after my dad had told him that he couldn’t go. Quarry didn’t budge though.

  Burying his hands in his lap, he boldly returned my dad’s stare in the review mirror and said, “No disrespect, Leo, but this is my fault. I’m going.”

  We all knew that it wasn’t his fault, but after a quick glance at me, and at my mother’s urging, my dad gave up and slowly pulled out of the parking lot.

  With a black-and-blue knot on his forehead, Quarry spent four hours painting my cast to look like a zombie hand. My dad laughed and patted Quarry’s shoulder as I proudly showed it off around the gym. It was badass—especially after my mom had added a purple bow around the wrist.

  Later that same year, Quarry’s life got even harder when his oldest brother suddenly went deaf. The whole On The Ropes family pitched in to help the boys during the initial adjustment. And that family included my mom and dad. We spent a week in Indianapolis. I hated the reason why we were there, but spending a whole week with Quarry was the equivalent of a Disney vacation for me.

  Unfortunately, it didn’t feel like one. During that time, I saw something in Quarry Page I’d never be able to forget: fear. Of course, he’d never admit it, but the broken innocence hidden behind those hazel eyes was devastating even to a young girl like me. My heart shattered for him.

  For the present in which he was forced to watch his brother fumbling through his new life in silence.

  But mostly for the future in which he’d share the same fate.

  He leaned on me. Or, more accurately, he let me sit beside him while he repeatedly held his breath and pretended the world didn’t exist. Quarry wasn’t lying; he did like the quiet. He also liked the dark. So, with my headphones blaring in my ears and my iPad illuminated in my lap, I spent countless hours in a secluded corner, pretending tears weren’t dripping off his chin. We were at least six inches apart and we never spoke a single word. But we were together all the same. My company was the only comfort Quarry would allow me to offer him.

  One thing I’d learned was that Quarry hated hugs. He dodged my arms every chance he got. I, on the other hand, loved them, so I snuck them as often as I could—usually by ambushing him from behind. He’d always curse and complain, but his body would relax almost instantly, and when I would bury my face between his shoulder blades, I could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He’d stand there motionlessly until I was done and then walk away as if it hadn’t happened.

  But it happened.

  And I had a sneaking suspicion that he gave it to me because he thought I needed it.

  Which I absolutely did.

  But so did he.

  It’s funny how much a person can grow and change in only three hundred and sixty five days. On the flip side, sometimes there aren’t enough days to ever change some things.

  When I was twelve, I fell in love with Quarry Page. And not the kind of love that had me doodling his name in hearts on every notebook I owned. I’m talking the kind of love that seeps into the marrow of your bones and becomes part of your very being. I didn’t have daydreams of wearing a white dress and meeting him at an altar. I did, however, want to sleep every single night for the rest of my life at his side.

  I discovered that magical feeling on one of my numerous trips to Indianapolis.

  It was Aunt Erica’s birthday, and we were in town so my parents could go to the surprise party Uncle Slate and my mom had been planning for months. Minutes before they were supposed to leave, their usual nanny called out sick. Erica was ready to cancel the whole thing and stay home, but Slate scrambled, and luckily for me, newly turned eighteen-year-old Flint Page was first on his list of replacements.

  I liked Flint. He was nice enough. Boring, but still nice.

  But he wasn’t why I was lucky.

  My night took an exciting turn when Quarry came strutting in behind his brother. His dark hair was swept to the side but still hanging in his eyes as his gaze found mine. That dimple dented his cheek as a crooked grin formed on his lips.

  “Sup.” He lifted his chin in my direction, acting every bit as cool as he looked in a pair of purposely tattered jeans and a T-shirt that was hopeless to hide the muscles that made him appear far older than thirteen.

  I, however, wasn’t cool at all.

  “Q!” I squealed, bouncing on my toes.

  He laughed only to quiet suddenly when my dad caught him by the back of the shirt and said, “I’m watching you, boy.” It was a threat, but he said it with a smile.

  Everyone knew that Q and I were close. They also knew we were only friends. My parents loved the Page boys and trusted them implicitly. Sure, Quarry got into his fair share of trouble—usually my trouble he took the wrap for. But they always knew he’d never let anything happen to me. My dad actually adored how protective he was over me. It was probably the only reason he allowed his little princess to spend so much time with a rough-around-the-edges boy.

  “Yes, sir,” Quarry quickly responded.

  “Okay, Flint. I put a list of emergency numbers on the fridge. Ty and Adam are both asleep in Adam’s room, but if they wake up, turn on the sound machine and leave the door cracked. They’ll fall right back to sleep,” Aunt Erica said to Flint as my mom huddled beside her.

  “Oh, don’t worry about Ty. He sleeps like a rock,” my mom added.

  “I put a sippy cup in the fridge for Riley. It’s the pink one. Not the blue one. Just remember: She’s the girl. Pink.”

  “I think I can handle that,” he replied, flashing his eyes to Uncle Slate in a plea for backup.

  “Erica, leave the boy alone. This isn’t exactly his first time with the kids!” Slate shouted.

  “It is with Ty and Liv too! Four kids is a lot different,” she called back, never dragging her eyes off Flint. “Are you sure you can handle this? I mean, it’s not too late to say no.” She nervously toyed with the ends of her long, blond hair.

  “It’ll be no problem.” He laughed. “Riley and Adam are easy, and if Ty wakes up, Liv can help me with him.”

  Erica smiled, but her hesitance was still obvious. Turning to my mother, she asked, “
Are you sure you’re okay with this, Sarah? We could always go out another night.”

  “She’s fine with it!” my dad confirmed. “Good lord, can we please go? I’m starving.”

  Slate made his way over to Erica, draping his arm around her hips. “Beautiful, he’s got it.”

  “Fine,” she huffed. “Give him some money for pizza and let’s go.”

  Slate passed Flint a fifty-dollar bill from his wallet then ushered Erica toward the door. My mom waited as the adults filed from the house. No sooner had the door clicked than she laid into us.

  “You two,” she said, waving a finger between Quarry and me. “Do not give Flint any trouble tonight. No pranks. No games. Nothing. Eat pizza, watch a movie, hang out, whatever. Just stay out of trouble.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Quarry answered hastily.

  I nodded, but when I opened my mouth to reply, she got there first.

  “I’m serious, Liv. I’m not your father. Don’t think you can just bat your eyelashes at me. You get in any trouble tonight, you won’t be pinning it on Quarry.”

  Quarry attempted to interject, but she once again got there first.

  “Don’t you even try to cover for her.”

  He promptly closed his mouth and became engrossed with his shoes.

  “Jeez, Mom. Chill out. We’ll be good.” I smiled.

  Her shoulders sagged in relief. “Okay. You have your iPad, right?”

  I nodded.

  “Q?” she called.

  His gaze lifted to hers.

  “Keep her in line.”

  “I always do.” He smirked.

  She narrowed her eyes.

  “I mean…yes, ma’am.”

  She didn’t look any more convinced, but she relented and headed out the door.

  Finally alone, I turned to Quarry and punched his shoulder. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah. Flint asked me if I’d come help. Of course—”

  Flint immediately cut him off. “You’re so full of it. He paid me twenty bucks to bring him.”

  Quarry’s eyes flared wide. “Dude! What the hell?”

  Flint laughed as he walked away.

  I grinned, because well…Quarry was there. “Best twenty bucks you ever spent,” I said, bumping my shoulder against his.

  “We’ll see about that,” he mumbled under his breath as he glared at his brother.

  He was wrong. There was nothing to see about. We had a whole night to hang out without anyone bothering us. I’d have sledgehammered my piggy bank months earlier if I’d thought it would have bought me more time with him.

  A large pepperoni pizza and a two-liter of pop later, we sat on the large leather sectional in Slate’s rec room, arguing over which movie to rent. I loved a good comedy, but Quarry wanted an action flick. And, regardless of how hard I tried, I couldn’t sweet-talk him into letting me have my way.

  It was infuriating.

  And more fun than I’d had…since the last time I had seen him.

  “Give me the remote.” I dove toward him, but he quickly jumped to his feet, holding it high above his head.

  He was at least eight inches taller than I was, but that didn’t stop me from trying to snatch it from his hand. I was jumping when my sequined flip-flop wedged under the edge of the rug, tripping me. I would have fallen completely on my face if his hand hadn’t snaked out and caught me at the last second.

  “See? That’s what you get for wearing such girlie shoes,” he teased, settling back on the couch and flipping to the action movies on Netflix.

  “Well, seeing as I’m a girl, it’s my God-given right to wear girlie shoes.”

  He laughed. “Oh, please. You’re not a girl.”

  “Excuse me?” I gasped, clearly offended.

  It wasn’t lost on me that I was, in fact, a girl. I was actually a very girlie girl in some ways. But it was the way boys used the term girl as if it were an insult that pissed me off. But, before that moment, I had no idea that someone—especially Quarry—telling me that I wasn’t a girl could be equally as insulting.

  He must have heard the hurt in my voice, because suddenly, the remote had been discarded on the coffee table and his attention was focused solely on me. His hazel eyes looked confused as he explained, “I just mean that you aren’t like other girls. You’re tough and funny. They’re all wimpy and helpless. I’ve seen you hold your own against boys double your size. Real girls cry when their pencils break.”

  Wow. A compliment and an insult. How does a girl even attempt to respond to something like that?

  I punched him hard on his arm. “You’re an idiot.”

  “See!” He smirked as he rubbed his shoulder. “What girl punches a guy like that? Like you’re freaking Rocky Balboa, raised on the streets. Not in a cushy Chicago mansion. None of the girls at my school—that’s for sure.”

  And that was the first time Quarry Page broke my heart.

  There were two parts of that statement that wounded me so deeply. The first being that I’d thought Quarry liked that I was tough. I hadn’t always been raised in a cushy mansion. I’d had five years of struggle under my belt, even if I did only remember a few silent nights of those years. That was enough. I didn’t need the rest of those memories. Not when only one nearly incapacitated me on a nightly basis.

  The second way was that, for the very first time ever, I felt a dose of jealousy. I wasn’t stupid. I had known that Quarry had girls at his school. I’d just never thought they were any competition for me. Or, better yet, that I would ever consider someone else competition when it came to him. Quarry wasn’t my boyfriend or anything. That’s not how our relationship worked. However, in that moment, I kinda wished it had been like that. Maybe he’d want to hold my hand while we watched a movie. He could get a ride up to Chicago and go to my middle school formal with me. We would have had so much fun together. I didn’t want him to bring me roses and mushy cards, but even thinking of him doing that with someone else suddenly burned.

  I’d never thought of Quarry like that before, so as I blankly stared at him, I couldn’t figure out why my mind was trudging into such uncharted waters when, honestly, I didn’t even like to swim.

  Yet my mind wanted an answer and went directly to my mouth to get it, bypassing my self-restraint altogether.

  “Do you have a girlfriend?”

  His eyebrows popped high in surprise. “Not really.”

  “Not really” was not an answer. It was an evasion.

  And it made it clear that he probably did.

  It also burned so badly that I was afraid the blisters would be visible on my skin.

  I focused on the TV, hoping the pain didn’t show on my face.

  “Why? Do you have a boyfriend?”

  Nope.

  Not even close.

  “Kinda,” I replied instead.

  “Seriously?”

  I didn’t turn to look at him. I pulled my feet under me and settled into the corner of the couch. “So, what movie are we watching?”

  “Liv—”

  “I’m fine with action. But it better be good. None of that sci-fi crap.”

  I could feel his eyes locked on me for several beats, but I refused to look at him. He was allowed to have whatever girlfriend he wanted. We were still best friends. Nothing had changed.

  Though it didn’t feel like that as I curled into the corner of the couch, fighting back irrational tears and feeling more like a girl than I ever had before.

  I didn’t even make it halfway through the movie before I was lulled to sleep by the loud noises of car chases and explosions.

  My body shot upright as I was awoken by the most terrifying sound in the world.

  Silence.

  Panic built in my chest as my eyes struggled to take in my surroundings.

  The room was pitch-black—not even the light from the moon peeked in. I definitely wasn’t in my bedroom at home, and my groggy mind was too overwhelmed to remember where I’d falle
n asleep. I just knew I needed to get the hell out of there. Tears built in my eyes as I pushed to my feet and darted to where I hoped there was a door. I hadn’t made it far when my leg slammed into something, and I tumbled forward in a fight to stay on my feet. I crashed into something else just before a heavy weight fell on top of me and knocked the air from my lungs. A whole new level of fear spiraled out of control within me.

  My eyes had adjusted enough for me to see the large frame of a man rushing toward me. It wasn’t large enough to be my dad, but it was menacing nonetheless.

  “Daddy!” I shrieked, flailing my arms and legs, frantically trying to escape whatever or whoever was restraining me in my own personal version of hell. “Stop! Don’t touch me!” I screamed at the shadow of a man when he lifted me off the ground.

  “It’s just me, Liv. I’ve got you.”

  “Quarry?” I squeaked, relief flooding my system.

  “You’re okay. I won’t let anything hurt you. I swear.”

  I immediately burst into tears, and he wrapped me tight in his arms. Front to front, he hugged me as if he were the one losing his shit—not me.

  Just then, the door swung open and a flashlight illuminated the room as a symphony of children’s cries filtered in. The welcome chaos was music to my ears.

  “Jesus Christ, what the hell is going on? You two woke up all the kids,” Flint growled.

  “Hey, shut the fuck up, dickhead. She was scared.”

  “Oh,” he replied in understanding. “You okay, Liv?”

  My body shook as I dangled in Quarry’s arms. I couldn’t even form a coherent thought, much less an answer.

  “What the fuck happened to the TV?” Quarry barked, holding me even tighter.

  “The power went out,” Flint replied. “I’m gonna call Slate. You two good?”

  “She’s fine. I’ve got her. You go take care of the kids.”

  The lights suddenly flickered on only long enough to taunt me before plunging us back into darkness. Another round of sobs overtook me. I wasn’t scared of the dark. Well, not exactly. It was just that silence tended to linger in the darkness.

  “I…I…n-n-n-need my headphones,” I cried into Quarry’s chest.